Still standing, doggedly resisting the waves but a ruin since the fire started by an arsonist in 2003. Brighton’s West Pier was opened in 1886, in its heyday there was a fine concert hall, the cast iron girders of its arched roof of which still give grace to the skeleton.
I walked its boards once in the late 1970s on a ride out from London with a mate, both on big bikes. We visited the Captain’s Cabin pub on the pier and the amusement arcades; us bikers didn’t do the stately helter-skelter nor the dodgems but I remember Spike had a go on the slot machines.
A bleak metaphor for these times.